Paloma Goes Dancing

Paloma's love of dancing started about four years ago when she followed me to the Marlin on New Year's Eve.I tried to park her outside the main door but it didn't work. Every time someone entered the restaurant so did Paloma. "Annetta, Paloma," Lucy would say and she'd show me where Paloma was making herself small under some table somewhere. I'd lead Paloma out only to have the process repeated. Finally when the meal was over and the dancing started, Lucy gave up. "Okay, she can stay." Thus a dancing dog was born.

There are not a lot of dancing opportunities in Kino. San Diego, a puta bar on the beach, is now closed but Paloma and I did go dancing there a couple times. She stared longingly as the girls climbed the scaffolding then slid seductively down the pole in the middle of the floor.

Not too long ago we went dancing at the Costa Azul, the only cantina in Kino. It is not a place frequented by respectable Mexican women. However, gringas can be counted on to do things out of the Mexican norm so one night I went there with two women friends. We had a blast but had not been back since. On this particular night a group of us had been at an event at the Hacienda Hotel (Paloma waited outside; the security guard kept her distracted with food). We weren't ready for the night to end so we thought we'd see if anything was going on at the Azul. When we arrived the place was empty but the call went out, "Americanos here," and soon the bar filled with locals. Then some businessmen from Hermosillo came in.

The Costa Azul is ugly. It smells like piss. The jukebox recycles through the same six songs, Mexo-techno of some sort. The only alcohol is beer sold in big bottles - caguamas.

Paloma became a royal pain in the ass as she nipped at the ankles of my dancing partners. One of the men from Hermosillo (that guy in the plaid shirt sitting against the wall) tried to keep her out of the way by petting her but that lasted only so long. Her favorite target was this guy:

The belly-rolling man. We met him our first night at the Azul. Instead of saying, "My name is so and so. Do you remember me?" he just lifts up his shirt. Even when I run into him on the street, he'll start to lift his shirt in greeting and I'll say "no, no, it's okay. i remember you."

If you're gonna dance at the puta bar, you better bring attitude.

That's our bodyguard against the wall back there. He was called when we showed up and immediately set to work keeping an eye on things. Beer splatters on the camera lens.

It wasn't until the next day that we realized the reason for our popularity. The caguamas. We'd order bottles of beer, get up to dance, return to the table, the bottles would be empty, we'd order more, we'd dance... You get the picture.

I saw our bodyguard the other day. He asked when we were coming back to the Azul, said the place has been hopping lately. Maybe we'll go tonight after we celebrate the Muslim Mexican marriage of our friend. We'll be driving to the party so, sadly for Paloma, she'll have to stay home.